


Double-Cross

by unicornsandbutane



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon-Typical Violence, Humor, Inappropriate Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-02-07
Packaged: 2018-03-10 21:13:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3303635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unicornsandbutane/pseuds/unicornsandbutane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Scout tries to get what he wants.</p><p>Warning: There's some messed-up stuff regarding the RED Spy's relations with the BLU Scout's mother, in here. If you're sensitive to that kind of thing, be wary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Double-Cross

"I guess it started with me just, y’know, looking at him, from across the battlefield. Nothing that’d give me away or nothin’, just, you know. Watchin’. Noticin’ stuff. ‘Course I couldn’t let him know what I was thinkin’, that’d… Fuck, that’d ruin everything! But then, somewhere along the way, I guess he started lookin’ back at me, and that’s what really got me goin’.  
more   
We were at Sawmill, right, and I knew we’d be there for a while. I also knew that after that, we’d be at Thunder Mountain, and after that, Double Cross, and that that’d be the first chance I’d get to, y’know, try anything. Jayzus, but it was hard to keep it a secret. Fuckin’ A, I wanted to tell everyone, because _shit_ he was lookin’ _back_ at me and do you chuckleheads even know what that means?! For a guy like me to get a guy like that to start goin’ all goo-goo eyed? Meant, hell, I might’ve had a better chance than even _I_ thought.

I wanted him to do more than just notice me, though. I just had to, you know, get in under his skin. I had to. So the next time he was taking potshots at me with his Ambassador, I guess I wasn’t as careful as I couldve been, but he clipped my hip and also I’m pretty sure put a bullet in my lung. I went down, coughing up blood, and must’ve gripped the legs of his weird off-red suit on my way to the ground because even while my vision swam, I looked up at him, with fistfuls of pinky-red pinstriped wool, and he looked down at me. He didn’t even kick me away, just waited for me to die, while the rain fell into my eyes. It was almost poetic, y’know? I counted that one as a personal victory. I could only hope that meant what I thought it did: somehow, I’d gotten to him, and maybe, just maybe, I could finally bag ‘im.

After we took Thunder Mountain, it was Double Cross. You remember that, though. Aw man, I could hardly contain myself. I was so keyed up, just waitin’ for my chance. I didn’t know how he’d react, ‘course, and I wouldn’t say I was nervous, or nothin’, but, hell, I couldn’t even imagine what you guys’d think if I screwed it up and the whole thing came out, ‘n all that. Aw, but, jeez, I was so fuckin’…   _excited_ , y’know? Like, maybe it would all work out and I could get my hands on somethin’ I really fuckin’ needed, right?

I needed to get him alone, though. So when the battle began, that first day at Double Cross, I waited a little bit. Usually I’m the first guy out of the gates, right, so I figured, he’d be expecting me. But I hung back for a while, just so he’d notice I wasn’t there. I thought maybe he might even go looking for me.

Nobody had managed to get past that big-ass set up Engie’d built right by our Intel room, and I figured they pretty much had it handled over there. Basically, the only bozo we’d have to worry about was RED’s Scout, but he’s got shit for brains and can’t _near_ touch me. And anyway, I could hear him gettin’ sniped, and blown up, and fuckin’ falling off the damn bridge, so I set off to find the RED Spy. It wasn’t really all that hard. All I had to do was run around their Intel room a little, dodge here and there, enough to make those guys nervous. Plus, like I said, I’d been watchin’ the guy. I figured I had his M.O., more or less, y’know? He’d have his eye out, an’ if he was as into me as I thought, he’d definitely come after me. I called on Demo to bust up their sentry and boom! I was in like Flynn. ‘Course, so was the RED Spy. But that’s what I was hoping for.

I smelled him before I heard him, fuckin’ pack a day or more of them Marlboro Reds. My pulse sped up, I could feel it, and I leaned back against the desk, not going for the Intel, just waiting for him to make a move.

He uncloaked, and took a few steps toward me, looking at me like he did that day at Sawmill. I bit my lip and looked back up at him. I could see his lip twitch, and he ashed his cigarette, and glanced me up and down. He took another step closer, and pretty much was all up in my personal space, then. He took a deep drag and exhaled it into my face.

'What is this, petit? You aren't grabbing for our Intelligence, you aren't reaching for the pea-shooter you call a pistol… It is almost as if you've forgotten your job,' he said. I just shrugged at him, looking down and then up again so he'd get the idea. His grin seemed to only affect one side of his face, y'know, like the other side was frozen into this hard glare. He leaned in close and said, 'Perhaps there is something else you want?'

'Maybe,' I said, and looked away from his face, off to the side. I was gripping the desk for dear life, keepin' my hands from doin' anything crazy, and my heart was goin' fuckin' mad in my chest. What if someone walked in? RED's Engineer, their Pyro, shit, even any of YOU mooks. I had to work quick if I was gonna get what I wanted.

 He plucked his cigarette from out of his mouth, and braced his hand on the desk, near mine. His forefinger touched my pinky, and I almost shivered. It was all goin’ so fuckin’ good!

I looked up again just in time for him to catch my chin in his other hand. I just kinda blinked at him, and licked my lips, and he kissed me. He _kissed_ me! I couldn’t fuckin’ believe it. I had to smile then, and I knew I was, but he didn’t seem to mind it. He didn’t mind when I pushed off the desk a little and put my arms around his neck and pressed my chest to his, neither. Here’s the guy who’s always makin’ off with our Intel, and instead, he’s in his _own_ Intel room, _makin’ out_ with _me!_ And damn, did that feel good. He was getting into it, too, slipping his hands down my ribs, and after a little bit he was bold enough to push my shirt up so his gloves could get up under it. I didn’t stop him. ‘Course I didn’t. I wanted him to do it.

When his fingers crept higher I decided to up the ante a little, and pulled my shirt off, dropping my pack on the desk. He just stared for a minute, and y’know, I don’t blame him, having alla _this_ laid out in front of him. I wish _I_ had a camera beard, so I coulda captured the look on his face. He ran one fingertip over the chain on my dogtags, flicked the tags themselves aside to trace down the center of my chest. He stopped at my belt buckle, and I looked down at his hand, and then met his eyes again.

After that, his fingers were quick in unbuckling and unbuttoning and unzipping my pants, and when they were hanging off my hips, I let go of the desk and reached for his trousers. He wouldn’t let me, though, slapped my hands away, and I almost freaked out, thought he was gonna back out, but he unbuttoned his slacks so prim and proper like you’d think he _wasn’t_ about to whip his cock out.

He was, though. I’d make sure of it.

I had to reach into my own skivvies to pull myself out. Figured I’d give him a show, and if I played my cards right, maybe whet his appetite a little. I wanted him to watch me. With my pants and underwear around my thighs, I started stroking myself, biting my lip to keep from grinning and ruining the mood. I used both hands, right, cupping my balls with one and jerking off all slow-like, with the other. He watched, and his nostrils flared, and his fingers twitched.

'D'ya, y'know, do you want to…?' I asked him, glancing down at my hands around my dick.

'If only to show you how it is done _properly_ ,' he answered, smug as can be, but damn. He had no idea how long I'd been thinking about this one.

He tugged off a glove with his teeth, and tucked it into a pocket in his coat, before wrapping weirdly soft fingers around me. His strokes were like, quick, quick, slow, quick, slow, slow, slow, quick quick, y’know? I guess he wanted to keep me on my toes. I was, buddy, let me tell you.

I started moanin’ and junk, because, you know, I couldn’t _not_. He just kinda laughed and leaned into me, so I reached out and sorta felt him up through his pants. He hissed through his teeth, y’know, and saints preserve us, he was harder than me. I was just kinda rubbing my hand against his open fly, while he was all-out fisting my cock, and that was pretty amazing.

When I asked, ‘Can I…?’ just, you know, quietly, he pushed his shiny underpants down in the front, and gave me access. Man I almost couldn’t believe my luck. He was totally into it, and after waiting for so long, I was _so_ fuckin’ ready for it to pay off.  I wrapped my hand around him and started jacking him off a little.

When his eyelids started flutterin’ I knew I was in business.

'Come on,' I said, 'We ain't got much time.' I couldn't be sure how long it'd be before anyone, RED _or_ BLU, would show up. I couldn't let this slip through my fingers, though.

'Eager?' he asked, his grin finally reaching both sides of his face.

'Yeah, fuck, Spy… I only ever do things hard and fast,' I told him, and bucked into his hand.

He flipped me over so my hips pressed into the desk, and crowded around me. Then, he took one last drag on his cigarette and crushed it on the blotter. When he sighed the smoke out, it curled around my neck and ears, hanging around my face. It’s such a distinctive smell, y’know, Marlboro Reds. I knew my hair was gonna reek of this meeting afterwards, but couldn’t bring myself to care, not when he was pulling off his other glove behind me and shoving that hand that smelled of leather and sandalwood into my face.

'Suck,' he said. So I did. Boy I just went  to town on those fingers, partly because he really seemed to like it and hell, that's what I was after and partly because, well, jeez, I knew where they were goin'. He was breathin' heavy on the back of my neck, makin' the short hairs stand up.

'Ça suffit,' he said, and his voice was rough. Good fuckin' deal! Since he pulled his hand from my mouth, I guess that means 'knock it off', or somethin' but, y'know, I don't speak French. I took, like, a semester in high school but, fuck, I was lousy at it. I guess it just wouldn't be fair to the world for me to be good at _everything_.

Anyway.

So he had one hand just teasing against the base of my cock, and the other one went right to stroking against my asshole. Just spit wasn’t really enough, I guess, because suddenly he was reaching into his coat and pulling out this square glass bottle with a silver top, both hands moving in front of me to open it up and dab some of the oily stuff inside on his hands. He left the bottle open on the desk, and there it was again, that smell of sandalwood. It reminded me of home, because sometimes my ma’s room smells like that. Then his fingers, all slicked up, started probing into me again.

I had to heave a great big breath to relax. I was like, holy shit, he’s really gonna do it! One finger then two, and fuck, I could tell he’d done this before. He knew just how to curl and stretch an’ all that. Three fingers, and I just wanted him to go ahead and do it already because _goddamn_.

I was like, ‘C’mon, man… Y’gotta, quit messin’ around!’ He just did that little laugh again, like he does, y’know, and got more of that oil on his hands.

I could feel him shimmying his pants down more, behind me, and slicking his cock with the stuff, then, yep, he was bumping against my asshole and pushing into me. I just clawed into that desk, man, but, aw jeezus he was being all slow an’ gentle. Like he fuckin’ _meant_ it. _Like he fuckin’ meant it!_ Could you believe it? I couldn’t.

And then I think I said something like, ‘Fuck, Spy, that ain’t—’ but I damn near swallowed my tongue cuz then he started just _slammin’_ into me, and it was like, it was like he just couldn’t help himself. My guts were bumping against the desk and his breath was in my ear an’ then he started, fuckin’, he started like, kissin’ my neck, behind my ear an’ junk, and I started _really_ making noises at that point, and shit, he was all over me. Like, his hands were all, movin’ up and down my sides, an’ he didn’t even have his gloves on. He couldn’t keep his hands still, though. One minute he’s pawing at my chest, then he’s gripping my hip bones, then he’s teasing my cock again.

So I told him, ‘Waitaminnit, waitaminnit,’ and he growled— growled!— ‘What?!’ and I was like, ‘Lie back, I wanna ride you.’

So he fuckin’ _did_ , right there on the floor of the Intel room. He pulled out and settled himself on his back, and pretty much _beckoned_ me back onto his cock. He waved for me to come and sit on his dick, and called me ‘lapin’, which, I dunno what it means, but damn, it sounded fuckin’ filthy, comin’ from him. He was smilin’ up at me like life was fuckin’ rosy. I was all about how satisfied he looked. Like, it was _me_ makin’ him look like that. It was fuckin’ sweet.

So I pushed my pants down around my knees and balanced just so, right, and he put his hands on my hips to help me along, and, fuck, it was a totally different experience from that angle. I could see his face and everything, the way his lips turned up when I eased myself down that first time, the way he squinted a bit when I pulled up. I meant it though when I said I didn’t have time to mess around, though— I mean, I could hear the battle sounds getting closer— so soon I was throwing my weight into it, y’know, and he started blissing out, his eyes shutting and his fingers clutching an’ yeah, it felt good.

'Ah, Spook' I said, 'Do ya like this? Is it good?'

He just said ‘ _Oui,_ “‘and didn’t even open his eyes. His hips were snapping up into mine, and I clenched around him, and he made this little noise, and I was like, fuck yes, fuckin’, it was finally, finally happenin’.

'Am I tight? Do you like bein' balls deep in me?' I asked him.

' _Oui,_ ' he said again.

'Fuck, you got no idea how long I been waitin' f'this, Spook. Y'been waitin' too? Y'been watchin' me? Wantin' me?' I wanted to know everything before, y'know, I finished up.

The Spook just groaned. His eyebrows were pinching together, he was breathing hard, he was hauling me up and down on his cock, and goddamn, but it looked like he was close.

So I said, ‘Do I fuck like my Ma?’”

"—Oh, that is _foul,_ " the BLU Spy said. He’d listened to the rest of the tale in relative silence, smoking and feeling a grimace spread across his face, but as the Scout reported _that_ line, he could bear it no longer.

"Wait, wait!" the Scout insisted, waving his hands frantically, with a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. "I ain’t told ya the best part!"

The BLU Spy pinched the bridge of his nose. “ _What,_ ,” he asked, his tone deadpan if not pained.

"That’s what sent him over."

The Spy made a strangled sound of disgust. “What is _wrong_ with you?!” he demanded from behind his hands.

"What’s wrong with _me?!_ What’s wrong with _him_ , more like. Dontcha think? Anyhow—"

" _Mon dieu_ , there’s _more?_ "

"Well, yeah. I mean, I jerked myself off real quick, couldn’t go running around the battlefield with a hard-on, and came on his fuckin’ tie." The Scout laughed and the Spy felt a little queasy.

"Good lord. What then?" His face was in his hands, but he was filled with a sick, morbid curiosity.

"Well then I grabbed my scattergun off the desk, shot ‘im in the face, grabbed the Intel and ran!"

The Scout cackled messily, slapping the arm of the worn old recliner, while the BLU Spy’s face twitched.

"… Did you at least pull up your trousers?"

"Uh, well I mean, I had to pull ‘em up on the run, an’ there might’ve been a second there where I flashed the enemy Soldier and Pyro my goods, but hey, y’know, lucky them, right? Most people have to pay for that kinda show." The Scout leaned back with his hands laced behind his head.

"And you just left him there?"

"In a pool of blood and jizz, with his pants around his ankles, yeah." He sniffed and rubbed his nose.

The Spy was aghast. He’d never have figured the _Scout_ of all people would even _attempt_ a seduction routine for an Intel grab, much less pull it off.

Of course, he realized, that’s what made it so perfect. Nobody would ever see it coming.

"But yeah. Like, it wasn’t the most totally unpleasant thing I ever did, so y’know, you might win, for craziest Intel grab. Sitting in the sewers for two days? Shit sucks, man. Anyway!" He stood, and stretched. "Good talk man. Be seein’ ya!" He pointed at a spot on the Spy’s shirt and when he looked, the Scout flicked the older man’s nose, and zipped away.

The BLU Spy sat, blinking. He couldn’t decide whether he was more revolted or impressed.  
Perhaps the two weren’t as separate as he’d believed. 

**Author's Note:**

> So I was at work, making about fifty pounds of cookie dough, and my boss was out so my ladyfriend stopped by to hang out and eat chocolate chips. The conversation turned to the topic of media that depicts the Scout as a weeping uke to the Spy’s evil seducer/rapist, and this discussion resulted in her challenging me to write something that portrayed the Scout as kind-of a blushing stereotype whilst keeping his bombastic personality intact. She said that it’d have to be some kind of elaborate role-play, and I said it could be an enormous ruse, and well. This was what happened. I think it’s a bit of a digression from the initial prompt but… It’s supposed to be kind-of funny? Hope y’all enjoyed.
> 
> Find me on tumblr for more inappropriate junk.


End file.
